Let's Get Lost by Adi Alsaid

lawlessness, even.” She looked over at Leila to gauge her reaction. “If that makes sense.”
    Leila glanced away from the road to smile appreciatively at Bree. “Yeah, I think I know what you mean.” She turned back to the road. “Seize the Tuesday.” A few moments passed. A new song came on, another burst of energy and liveliness. Bree reached back to her bag to grab a granola bar and offered one to Leila, which she accepted with a thank-you.
    When she was done with it, Leila stuffed the wrapper into the plastic bag hanging off the gearshift. “You ever find it easier said than done? The whole seizing-the-day thing.
Carpe diem
is a pretty well-known philosophy, but if it were easier to put into practice, we wouldn’t have to be reminding each other of it all the time.”
    Bree laughed. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.” She uselessly combed her matted hair back behind her ear, only to have the dreadlocks flap in the wind again. “You just have to have something that constantly reminds you to do it. I don’t really ever have to tell myself to seize the day. It’s just, whenever I’m not, I feel like I’m slowly disintegrating or something. Like my soul is itching, and if I don’t actively live my life, it’ll never stop.”
    â€œYeah? What is it that reminds you?”
    â€œDead parents,” Bree said. She didn’t want to bring the mood down, but it was the one thing she could never lie about.
    â€œSorry,” Leila said. Then, after a beat, she added, “I’ve got the whole degenerative-disease thing reminding me to seize my days.”
    â€œShut up.”
    â€œSo, how do you know if you’re actively living your life? Is there an exact recipe you could write down for me?”
    Bree laughed again, thrilled now that it hadn’t been the silver sedan that picked her up. “There’s no formula. You’re either doing it, or you’re not. I just know that sometimes my soul itches, and sometimes it doesn’t. This, for example. This conversation. Right now, heading off toward Kansas City or wherever the hell we’re going, talking about this stuff. If I were to die right now, I wouldn’t be entirely upset.”
    Leila simply nodded for a while, smiling. The high-pitched sound of the tires carrying them down the highway, the wind pushing against the car in gusts overtook the music for a moment. Outside, the world was exactly three colors: the yellow of the tall grass desiccated by the rainless summer, and the black streak of the road, which seemed to climb straight up into that bright blue sphere of sky.
    Without another word, Leila reached for the volume dial and turned it all the way up as she sped the car down the highway. She started smiling wildly, drumming her fingers on the dashboard. When the chorus broke out, she joined in, screaming the words as if the world was meant to hear them. Bree sang right along with her, improvising until she could make sense of the lyrics.
    Â 

2
    WHEN BREE JOLTED awake, they were pulling into a gas station.
    â€œâ€˜The Trapeze Swinger
’
by Iron and Wine,” Leila said, unbuckling her seat belt. “If you’re even a little bit tired, it’s impossible to stay awake for the whole song.”
    Bree stretched her muscles, trying to find a way to pull every single one of them into wakefulness all at once. “How long have I been out for?”
    â€œNot long—about half an hour.” Leila parked the car at one of the pumps. “Sorry if I woke you up. We need gas.”
    â€œNo, I’m up,” Bree said, blinking away the sleep from her eyes. “I hate sleeping anyway. I always feel like I’m missing out on something.”
    Leila got out of the car, leaning against it as the fuel pumped in. Bree opened her door and joined Leila, squinting at the midday sun. She looked around at the gas station, noticing that it looked